<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Haunted by MagnetoTheMagnificent</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514822">Haunted</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnetoTheMagnificent/pseuds/MagnetoTheMagnificent'>MagnetoTheMagnificent</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Crowley Has ADHD (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley is bad with animals, Other, Supernatural Elements</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:41:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,069</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514822</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnetoTheMagnificent/pseuds/MagnetoTheMagnificent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale's bookshop is haunted</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Oh, Crowley, we must go in!" Aziraphale nudged Crowley as they strolled in the city, hand in hand.<br/>The angel was referring to a quaint bookshop, no unlike his own. <br/>"Why? You have plenty of books, Angel," Crowley sighed, shaking his head at his angel's book-weakness. <br/>"Maybe they have a book I don't have," Aziraphale suggested, peering through the shop's window. <br/>A grey cat eyed the odd pair suspiciously from inside. <br/>"Doubt it, love."<br/>Aziraphale gave Crowley one his pleading looks, and Crowley tossed his head back in exasperation. Aziraphale smirked, he knew Crowley would give in. <br/>"Fine, Angel, we'll have a look around," the demon relented. <br/>"Ooh, goody!" Aziraphale squealed, pressing a kiss to Crowley's cheek before pushing the shop's door open. <br/>The bell jingled merrily as the pair walked into the shop. The bookshop cat, who had been basking on the windowsill, hissed upon seeing Crowley enter the shop. <br/>Crowley glared at the cat.<br/>"How would you like it if I hissed at you?" he muttered to the cat, flicking his tongue out threateningly. <br/>Aziraphale chuckled and pat Crowley on the arm, urging him away from the feline.<br/>"Come dear, leave the poor cat alone."<br/>Crowley had not yet pulled his tongue back into his mouth, and when he did, he shuddered at whatever his tongue had picked up. <br/>Aziraphale didn't notice, too interested in a shelf stocked with Oscar Wilde. <br/>"Angel, does anything seem...off..about this shop?" Crowley asked, suddenly feeling uneasy. <br/>"Don't know what you mean, dearest," Aziraphale answered, inspecting a leather bound book. <br/>"M serious Angel. Something doesn't seem right," Crowley pressed, leaning his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder, forcing him to turn around and look at him.<br/>"Crowley, I know you don't like books, but please allow me this simple pleasure," the angel told the anxious demon curtly. <br/>Crowley gritted his teeth in frustration. How could Aziraphale not sense it? Something was wrong. <br/>"Can I help you, gentlemen?" the bookshop's owner asked. <br/>"Oh, no, we're just browsing. I own a bookshop myself, you see, but also a collection of my own," Aziraphale laughed. <br/>"Ooh, competition," the owner drawled. <br/>Crowley rolled his eyes at that. Aziraphale's bookshop was anything but competition. <br/>Crowley shifted his feet uncomfortably. Did the ground burn?<br/>"Where's this bookshop?" the owner asked, "I need to know my competition."<br/>"Soho, but you needn't worry, I won't try and steal any customers."<br/>The owner's eyes widened in surprise. <br/>"You aren't Mr. Fell, by any chance?"<br/>Aziraphale laughed lightly. <br/>"I am."<br/>Aziraphale and the owner began chatting animatedly about books.<br/>Crowley itched at his arms. Why was the bookshop hurting him? <br/>"And who is this?" the owner asked, gesturing at Crowley, who was fidgeting, and yes, he definitely was in pain.<br/>"Oh, that's my partner, Anthony," Aziraphale brightened, beckoning Crowley to join him. <br/>"Pleasure to meet you, Anthony. Your partner here is practically a celebrity in the bookkeeping world."<br/>The owner extended her hand, and Crowley shook it politely. Well, his hand didn't burn at her touch, so it wasn't her who was eminating the radiation. <br/>"Are you alright, Anthony?" the owner asked, noticing a rash forming on Crowley's face. <br/>Aziraphale looked at Crowley, finally recognizing the signs.<br/>"How long have you had this bookshop?" Aziraphale asked, seemingly changing the subject. <br/>"About thirty years," the owner declared proudly. <br/>"Do you know if the building was ever a Church? Or a Mosque? Or a Synagogue, perhaps?" <br/>Crowley caught onto Aziraphale's questions.<br/>"I don't think so," the owner replied in confusion.<br/>"I do stock Bibles, though. Why?"<br/>Aziraphale nodded, figuring it out. <br/>"Oh, just curious. It has some sort of aura to it. Maybe the architecture." <br/>At that, Crowley wandered toward the corner of the shop labled "religious books." As he neared the corner, he felt even more pained, like sharp needles on his skin. <br/>"Crowley!" Aziraphale nearly shouted, but calmed himself in order not to alarm or offend the owner. <br/>He pulled his partner by the arm, practically dragging away from the Bibles. <br/>"You're going to get hurt," he whispered.<br/>"I'm afraid we have an appointment to get to," Aziraphale informed the owner, pushing Crowley out of the door. <br/>"It was quite a pleasure meeting you," he assured the confused owner as the door closed behind him. <br/>Aziraphale lead Crowley away from the shop, not stopping until they reached a park. He sat Crowley on the bench, and looked him over, inspecting him for damage. <br/>"Angel, m fine. Really," Crowley protested, not liking how anxious he seemed to have made his partner. <br/>Aziraphale sat next to him. <br/>"Oh, Crowley, I'm so sorry I made you go in there. I didn't know-" Aziraphale tried apologizing. <br/>Crowley put a finger to Aziraphale's lips before he could continue. <br/>"Angel, I didn't know either. Don't feel bad, please, you know I hate seeing you so upset," Crowley pleaded.<br/>"Me, upset? Crowley, you're hurt!" Aziraphale sputtered, running his hand along Crowley's enflamed cheeks. <br/>"I'm fine. It'll go down in a matter of time, don't fret. Let's go get ice cream."<br/>Crowley pulled Aziraphale up, trying to soothe his worried angel. <br/>"I have Bibles at the bookshop!" Aziraphale gasped, realization hitting him.<br/>"Have I been hurting you the whole time?" <br/>His blue eyes were almost tearing up at the thought of hurting his lover. <br/>"Oh no, Angel, you haven't been hurting me," Crowley assured him, running his hands through Aziraphale's curls. <br/>"Your bookshop doesn't hurt me, love," he kissed Aziraphale on the neck, relieved when he felt Aziraphale relax under his touch. <br/>"That's why I couldn't figure out what was wrong."<br/>Aziraphale clutched Crowley's hand.<br/>"On second thought, Angel, let's go back to the shop, cuddle a bit, a forget this little mess ever happened," Crowley suggested. <br/>Aziraphale smiled at the thought. <br/>"We'll go back to the shop, darling, but we will figure this out," Aziraphale told him determinedly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Back at the shop, Aziraphale was poring over a book about demonology. Crowley was resting on his lap contentedly. <br/>"I don't think you'll find anything there, Angel. Humans come up with the wildest ideas," Crowley murmured, his face against Aziraphale's soft shirt. <br/>"That's probably true," Aziraphale sighed, tousling Crowley's red locks.<br/>"How's your rash, dear?" he asked, resting his hand on Crowley's forehead, which was still clammy. <br/>"M fine. Just a bit sleepy," Crowley yawned. <br/>"Why don't you stay the night? I don't feel comfortable letting you be alone before we can figure out what's going on."<br/>Crowley had spent the night at Aziraphale's, and Aziraphale at his, many times before. He nodded wearily at the suggestion.<br/>Aziraphale put his book down and gently gathered Crowley in his arms. The demon let Aziraphale carry him upstairs and lay him in bed. <br/>"Can I get you anything, dearest?" Aziraphale asked as Crowley laid his head on his chest. <br/>"No, let's just go to sleep," Crowley insisted, pulling Aziraphale closer. <br/>Aziraphale gave in, and miracled them into their pyjamas. <br/>Not long after, Crowley dozed off, and Aziraphale watched him fondly. <br/>He couldn't, or wouldn't sleep, wanting to keep an eye on his partner. </p><p>Hours later, as he was reading Chaucer's poetry, Aziraphale had an idea. </p><p>That morning, Crowley woke up to see his angel barely able to contain himself. When he got an idea into his head, he couldn't let it go easily. <br/>"Oh, Crowley, love, you're awake," Aziraphale exclaimed, bubbling with excitement. <br/>"Yeah, m awake. What's going on?" Crowley asked, rubbing his eyes. <br/>"Neutralizer! There must be a neutralizer that's counteracting the Bibles!" the angel announced, his wings, which had been manifested, flapping rapidly. <br/>"Neutralizer?" Crowley repeated, puzzled. <br/>"A grey zone, something that isn't Heavenly or Hellish, I guess like Adam, maybe it's Adam, oh, that would explain it, but that can't be because Adam wasn't always around," Aziraphale rambled, practically bouncing passionately. <br/>Crowley gazed at his angel lovingly. <br/>"Did you sleep at all, Angel?" he asked, smiling and shaking his head. <br/>"Oh, I couldn't sleep, Crowley!" Aziraphale laughed, "maybe it's haunted!" <br/>"I would have sensed it if this place was haunted," Crowley reminded him. <br/>"Not if there were Holy objects to counteract it," Aziraphale argued. <br/>"Let's sit down, Angel. I need my coffee before I can understand anything."<br/>Crowley steered Aziraphale to the kitchenette, where their mugs were waiting, at the perfect temperature, on the counter. </p><p>Once they had eaten breakfast, Crowley finally began to understand. <br/>"So you think your bookshop is haunted?" he asked, stirring sugar into his third cup of coffee. <br/>Aziraphale nodded. <br/>"We would have seen it, though," he commented. <br/>"Maybe it's hiding."<br/>"For 200 years?" Crowley asked incredulously. <br/>"You slept for nearly a century," Aziraphale teased. <br/>"You ever met one?" <br/>Crowley sipped his coffee, enjoying the warm sensation of the hot liquid in his mouth. He couldn't taste, of course, but routine was routine. <br/>Aziraphale shook his head. <br/>"We could coax it out of hiding, I guess," Crowley offered. <br/>"Maybe it doesn't want to be found."<br/>"Well, I don't like the idea of some unknown being poking around in your home. It's-" he paused, "spooky."<br/>"I thought you liked spooky," Aziraphale chuckled. <br/>"I do, but we don't know if this.... being.. is malevolent or not. I don't want you getting hurt."<br/>"I'm sure if it had any ill-intentions, it would have done something by now," Aziraphale assured him.<br/>"Ssstill.."<br/>Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley's. <br/>"We'll just have to keep an eye out for this spirit," he told his concerned partner.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Months had passed since they figured out Aziraphale's shop was haunted. Aziraphale spent most of his time at Crowley's flat, now, because, although he didn't want to admit it, he was a little spooked about something else being in his space. But this night, they were at the bookshop, lounging in the backroom.<br/>
"Hello," a voice startled the two, who were a bit tipsy.<br/>
They both jumped, and Crowley instinctively pushed Aziraphale behind him.<br/>
"I'm sorry!" the speaker apologized, and Crowley and Aziraphale saw that it was a child.<br/>
It was a child, but it wasn't alive. It was translucent almost, a little girl in a pretty dress. She looked frightened and innocent.<br/>
"Are you the spirit haunting my partner's shop?" Crowley asked when he and Aziraphale had recovered from their shock.<br/>
The child nodded slowly, her wide eyes looking up at the demon, who had softened when he saw her lonely expression.<br/>
"What's your name?"<br/>
Crowley knelt in front of the girl, careful not to scare her.<br/>
"Griselda Schimm, but I don't like my name," the ghost girl mumbled.<br/>
"Well," Crowley smiled gently, "that's the fun thing about names. If you don't like 'em, you can change him."<br/>
The girl smiled weakly.<br/>
"For example, do you know what my name is?" he asked.<br/>
"Of course I do," she responded, "you're Crowley, and you're a demon, but you're a nice demon."<br/>
Aziraphale chuckled at that, and Crowley shot him a glare.<br/>
"And you're Aziraphale," she pointed, "and you're an angel, but you don't like people very much."<br/>
Now it was Crowley's turn to laugh.<br/>
"How long have you been spying on us, kid?"<br/>
"I don't spy. I don't go upstairs, I just watch the bookshop," the girl said earnestly.<br/>
At least she wasn't in their bedroom, Crowley thought with relief.<br/>
"Well, darling, as I was saying, if you don't like your name, you can change it, or tweak it. You know me as Crowley, but before that I was called Crawly. Nasty name, if you ask me," he grimaced.<br/>
"Squirmy," the girl giggled.<br/>
"Exactly," Crowley barked. He was starting to like this kid.<br/>
"And before Crawly I was called-" he stopped, reddening.<br/>
"Well, nevermind," he laughed unsteadily.<br/>
Thankfully, the girl didn't seem to notice his near slip-up.<br/>
"Zelda," Aziraphale finally spoke, joining Crowley, who was sitting cross-legged in front of the girl.<br/>
"What?"<br/>
"You could call yourself Zelda," he offered.<br/>
"Zelda. I like it!" the girl squealed.<br/>
"Well, then Zelda it is," Crowley declared.<br/>
Aziraphale, too, was becoming fond of this mysterious spirit.<br/>
"Tell me, Zelda, how long have you, ah, been in the haunt?" he carefully asked.<br/>
Crowley glanced at the angel, then at Zelda, worried Aziraphale's question was too forward.<br/>
Fortunately, Zelda didn't mind.<br/>
"Not long before you opened your shop, Mr. Aziraphale."<br/>
"Just call me Aziraphale."<br/>
"I went to sleep, and then there was a scary man in a hood standing over me, trying to take me away," she continued.<br/>
"Azrael," Crowley murmured.<br/>
"I didn't want to go, I wanted to stay with my friends, but the man didn't want to let me."<br/>
Aziraphale suddenly remembered being told that before he purchased the property, there was a fire. It wasn't severe, not like what Crowley had described happening to his shop. In horror he realized she must have been killed in the fire.<br/>
"I begged the man to let me stay, and he finally did. My friends never came back to get me."<br/>
Crowley felt an overwhelming urge to hug the child, but held back, not wanting to frighten her.<br/>
"All this time, why didn't you say anything? I could have helped you..." Aziraphale's voice trailed off.<br/>
"I don't want to go. I like it here. I like all the books," Zelda answered, as it if were the most obvious thing in the world.<br/>
"Don't you want to play with other children?"<br/>
"I do, I don't stay here forever, you know," she told him pointedly.<br/>
"Then why show yourself now?" Aziraphale asked.<br/>
"I don't like it when you're away. You remind me of my family. I didn't want to scare you, but then you stayed away for days at a time. I get lonely."<br/>
"Zelda, dear, would you like it if we stayed with you?" Aziraphale asked.<br/>
"You're not scared off?"<br/>
"Of course not," Crowley reassured her, "I'm a demon, nothing scares me."<br/>
A thought crossed Zelda's mind, the memory of seeing the bookshop in flames, and the sheer terror in Crowley's eyes. She didn't say anything.<br/>
"Crowley loves kids," Aziraphale added, and Crowley nodded with a twinge of grief.<br/>
"Will you be my family?" Zelda asked shyly.<br/>
Aziraphale gasped at the question, and Crowley tried not to cry.<br/>
"Of course, darling," Crowley answered, leaning forward to hug Zelda.<br/>
She passed right through him.<br/>
"Sorry! I need to practice that," Zelda stammered.<br/>
Aziraphale's eyes creased in a smile, taking her by her small hand and pulling her into a hug.<br/>
The three, an angel, a demon, and a ghost hugged for a long time. They did make an odd family.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which we meet Death</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Azrael was known by many names; The Grim Reaper, Malach Hamavet, Death...<br/>Death did not like being turned away, although no one really could escape him. It did happen, however, that some very few people could refuse to follow him. <br/>Death did not like wasting time. He preferred his souls to be peaceful. He had no patience for the fighters.<br/>Death had no qualms about his job. He simply escorted souls to their prospective paths. <br/>Contrary to popular belief, Death did not do the 'pain' business. He was merely the middle man.<br/>Death followed no rules but his own, and his own rules were but one: do not get attached. <br/>If he got attached to any soul, his job would be all the more difficult. He tried not to look at the confused, terrified, mourning faces. He would not get attached to people. <br/>Death liked to be quick, and if a soul took too long to cooperate, and some souls did, he would just leave them.<br/>No, he wouldn't let them live, but he wouldn't ferry them to paradise or damnation. He just left them there, in limbo, dead but with nowhere to go.<br/>The souls that refused to follow were usually the old, wealthy misers who shunned mortality. These cases, Death had to admit, were fun. He felt smug leaving those souls, teaching them that an eternity on Earth was not something they should have asked for. These souls would be left to wander unseen, would grow wretched, bitter, and curse Death. Death would smile smugly at these souls. Naive, foolish humans. <br/>Other souls who refused Death knew exactly what they had coming. They were filled with revenge and malice, and wanted to torment the living who had wronged them. Death would feign disinterest, granting these souls their final wish. Secretly, Death found these souls amusing in their obsession. Fiery, passionate humans. <br/>In very, very rare cases, there would be souls that had no idea they were dead, and perhaps Death hadn't the heart to inform them, though he wouldn't admit it. Most of the time, these souls were children. Death didn't know how to explain to someone who hadn't the concept of death that they themselves were dead. Death would simply gather the children in his arms and carry them away, and the children were too confused to protest. <br/>But sometimes, these souls fought back, seeing Death as a stranger coming to take them away. Death was no stranger. <br/>Most of the time, Death would impatiently drag these souls, kicking and screaming. <br/>But the year 19th century had Death exhausted. Too many souls had been dying, and he was only two decades in. Wars, plagues, natural disasters, he was overwhelmed. <br/>Perhaps that is why one night in 1820, when he come to claim a soul in London, he left it. It had fought back, but Death could easily have picked up, hauled it over his shoulder, and deposited it at the Pearly Gates. It was a child, after all. But Death was tired, and the child was a fighter. He had other souls to attend to, and he had no desire to waste time with this impudent child. The child begged for him to leave her alone, and he did. <br/>As a matter of principle, Death tried not to abandon children. Fully grown souls could deal with roaming the Earth forever, but a child- well, he couldn't let a child have that fate. Besides, they would be better off with their family. <br/>Some children did make it to become spooks, ghosts, spirits, and whatnot. These children usually had been left behind when Death was too lazy, or fatigued, to fight with them. A child's tantrum can rattle anyone's nerves, including Death.<br/>Days, or centuries later, Death may come to regret his actions, but most often he forgot about them. So many souls, so many faces, it was easier to be apathetic.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>